We have tiny ants coming up from the dishwasher. They come in battalions of ten to twenty. Susan noticed them first. She is always filling up the dishwasher or emptying it. We run the dishwasher twice a day. Everything goes on its own plate or bowl in this house. In the morning there are plates for the waffles and butter and a bowl for the syrup. I don’t ask Susan certain questions, why the syrup can’t stay in the bottle, for instance. Or why I’m not allowed to eat sugar anymore. She knows things I don’t.
I was supposed to call an exterminator weeks ago. I forgot to do it when I was supposed to. I’m always forgetting what I’m supposed to do when I’m supposed to do it. Susan says this is indicative of something, but I’ve forgotten what. Doubtless, this proves her point.
An hour before the party—
Who called last night?
When?
I don’t know, late.
I don’t remember.
The phone doesn’t usually ring at that hour.
I don’t have to explain myself in my own house.
The car is low on gas. Whenever I take her car I always have to put gas in it. This is why she likes it when I take the car. This is the first time I’ve taken the car without her knowing it, though. This is the first time I’ve taken the car and maybe won’t return it. Which is the reason I’m calling. Otherwise, she’ll be confused when she finds her car missing and perhaps upset.
Susan and I live in the same house. It is her house. I also maintain an apartment on the other side of town but I do most of my living at the house. That was her suggestion and the word she used. She said, Perhaps you should maintain your own apartment. This was when she invited me to live with her at some party. She said it out loud in front of a group of people I didn’t know. She knew I couldn’t maintain my own apartment but I figured she would maintain it for me. I said yes, I think. I don’t remember if I said yes exactly but I did find myself living in her house after we got back from the party.
Sometimes I stay at the apartment for a week or two at a time. Susan doesn’t like when I do this. She says so. She says I could at least call. I almost never call.
I go to parties with her. Sometimes I will put on clothes and Susan will tell me they are the wrong clothes. That the pants are dress pants and the shirt is casual and that I look like an idiot. She will tell me to put on one of the suits she bought for me. This is when I’ll say, What suit? And she’ll say, The brown one hanging in the closet. Then I’ll go in there and find three new suits to wear.
After one of the parties at home—
Fantasies are one thing, perversions another, she says.
Lines should be clearly drawn, I say.
I am not closed-minded, she says.
I say, There but for the grace of God.
You are only after one thing, she says.
And it’s a shame I don’t know what that is, I say.
Can we please have a normal exchange, she says.
I say, Quid pro quo, quid pro quo, two times fast.
You’re doing it again, she says.
I beg to differ, I say.
We never spent an entire night together before I’d moved into her house. This was her idea and something she was adamant about. I never asked for an explanation nor had I ever seen her sleep at that point. I liked to watch her smoke cigarettes then. That was enough for me. She would draw on a cigarette indifferent to the smoke, like she didn’t care where it went or what it did to her. Then she’d blow the vapor up and out of the corner of her mouth, smoke rising from a chimney. I’m lying about not having watched her sleep. One night I was in the easy chair adjacent to her bed, waiting for a taxi to pick me up. It was late and her husband was somewhere else. She didn’t have a car then so taking her car wasn’t an option, let alone calling her from the car. She was beautiful in that bed with one of her legs protruding from the top sheet. The leg looked like it was poised to take a step. It looked like a scene from a movie, something that required a smart ad-lib from a seasoned actor. I thought maybe I should cover her.
I didn’t know anything about the husband. She never said anything about him and by the time I found out I’d already seen her smoke a cigarette.
On the radio a singer is bidding America good morning and asking how we are. I don’t think he expects an answer.
I’m responsible for maintaining the car. Taking it for oil changes and new tires and the rest. None such was ever said out loud, but it was understood. My other responsibilities are also domestic. I’m to vacuum and do laundry and look good in suits. Sometimes I’m given a list in the morning. The list is prioritized, meaning I go to the first store first and so on. I buy something. Sometimes I buy two things. Sometimes the first thing I buy is contingent on buying the second thing. Sometimes the first thing is useless without the second thing. I take the thing or things home and wait for Susan. Susan comes home and says it’s the wrong thing or things. That I misunderstood what I was supposed to buy. Otherwise I misjudged something, instead of buying X amount of the thing or things I bought Y. I have to go back and return the things. I have to remember the receipt, which we keep on a tray near the oven or in a folder marked receipts.
One night a year before I moved into her house—
Does any of this bother you?
I think it does, yes.
In what way?
I’m not sure yet.
Thought I’d ask.
I think you drink too much.
I imagine that’s true.
Does it you?
Does what me?
Once it was a bathroom-ceiling fan. It was third on the list. (Sometimes the list isn’t composed by priority, it turns out.) The upstairs bathroom was being redone. After I’d moved into the house Susan decided to make some aesthetic changes. She hired a contractor to demolish the bathroom. It was my job to make sure the rooms were taped off to keep the dust out. Every morning during the demolition I took off the previous day’s tape and re-taped the bottoms and tops of the doors. I was good at this. After that I was to be home for when the various workmen showed up to do work. These included an electrician, a plumber, a carpenter, someone to put up the drywall because the carpenter had a bad back, and a painter. During this time I had to buy or pick up certain things for the workmen to be able to do their work. This included a bathroom-ceiling fan for the electrician to install. I went to the store and bought a ceiling fan. Turns out I was to buy the sort of ceiling fan that sucks air out of the bathroom, an exhaust fan. I’d purchased the sort of ceiling fan that has blades and revolves at various speeds blowing air around the room.
I think the ceiling fan was important so Susan can smoke in the bathroom. She doesn’t let me watch her smoke anymore. I said something about watching her smoke and she took it the wrong way. I think I may’ve said it at one of the parties in front of a group of people I didn’t know. So now she smokes her cigarettes in the upstairs bathroom while I am downstairs eating sandwiches and wearing suits.
Certain patterns of behavior tend to repeat themselves, like history. I wouldn’t call it a vicious circle, though. I’d call it a vicious figure eight.
I am driving. She is sleeping and is beautiful when she sleeps. I’m not sure if I’m beautiful when I drive. I do look good in the suits Susan buys for me, though I’m not wearing one now. The gas tank is nearing empty so I will have to remember to fill it up. The singer on the radio is saying he’s the train they call the City of New Orleans. I don’t know how he is a train and not on a train but it’s a good song anyway. I’m calling her to tell her that when she goes to the driveway there will be nothing there for her to drive. After that I don’t know what I will say. We might discuss the calls or the drinking or the smoking or the people at the party. I’ll probably start by telling her that I’m in this car but am not the car itself. She will probably be confused. I almost never call from the car and almost never say anything out loud.